Speak Now
by xwarmembrace
Summary: I'm not the kind of girl to be rudely barging on a white veil occasion, but you are not the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl. DeanxAlex.


**Just a little head's up - I don't think this is really worthy of being T. There's just a little language here and there and I didn't want people to yell at me. So I'm not exactly sure, it's really just T for safety measures.**  


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Crashing a wedding isn't exactly my style. Interrupting a wedding and possibly ruining a marriage kind of is.

Here's that guy. Dean. I never call him Dean. He's not Dean to me. He's that guy. Mine... at 16. But her I am, at 23, interrupting his wedding to his current lover. Lover? I don't know. Were they having sex? I've been unfortunately inactive since we broke up. Ghosts. It's always going to be him.

I think I got that from a Nicholas Sparks book, but it's true. Why can't I just get over this damned relationship?

Maybe I am over it, but I don't like it. I don't like this girl. I don't think he does either. I've seen their Facebook display pictures. She looks so fake and posed and he looks so awkward, towering over her. He's about a head taller than I am, maybe even more if he's grown by then. I doubt it, but I don't really understand male puberty. How would I? Their height difference is a little awkward, more than ours. She's like four foot eleven. I'm five foot two-ish. Maybe that's not much difference, but you can tell when you see us right next to each other. So eventually, whether he thinks I'm ridiculous or not, he will probably thank me for getting him out of the arms of this redheaded skank.

But I digress.

I'm not dressed appropriately for the occasion. A stained T-Shirt and capris aren't exactly formal. He hasn't seen me in a while, unless he stalks my Facebook like I occasionaly lurk over his. Not stalk. Lurk. It sounds less creepy that way.

Alex. Walk inside. It's starting soon, I think. Right? Yes. Yes. It's going on. Slowly, but surely. I peak inside to see the church separated in two sides. Pretty typical. You can see the tension and major difference between the two groups. His family is much more casual, wearing darker colors that they probably got at Target the night before. His mom was always cheap, or "frugal" as she liked to say. Cheap. His mom has obviously aged, but her hair is dyed. She was always a young mother - she had him at around our age. 22. That's why she made sure I was on birth control before we were even close to having sex. I wasn't going to go down her path. She liked me.

Obviously, that wasn't exactly what happened. I'm ruining a wedding. Wonderful.

His mother was talking to his little sister, who was around 19. I felt kind of bad for her. Dean and I went to college together. We promised we would. I was always interested in Northwestern, because my dad went there. I'm guessing she had to fly from Boston to Pheonix and then have to drive two and a half hours just to come to this damned thing. I feel bad for crashing this thing now. I liked Amy. She was an alright person. A little too blunt for my taste, but beggars can't be choosers. She was going to Boston University, I believe. I was pretty jealous, but I think I eventually grew tired of that urban life style.

His father snuck in. Damn it. He saw me. He recognized me. I look a little different, but not much. And he might have viewed my Facebook while Jason was stalking it. I sure hope so.

"Alex Ru-" He began in this deep bellowing voice, this grin on his face. I always knew he liked me. Or maybe he just liked me more than this redheaded skank. I believe her name is Claire. It made me think of The Breakfast Club.

"Shhh!" I don't know why I was so shocked that he noticed me. I sort of stuck out compared to everyone else, but I seemed to fade into his eccentric family. I could see some of his friends coming to his wedding in jeans and a T-Shirt. Hell, I could see Jason coming to a wedding in jeans and a T-Shirt. "I'm not exactly... supposed to be here."

"Yeah, you're not exactly dressed for the occasion." He commented, but he wasn't exactly in his Sunday best either. He was wearing a button down plaid shirt and dark wash jeans. I noticed, but maybe that wasn't the smartest idea.

"Just don't tell anyone I'm here, okay?" I requested, dozing off to the side. I could see Claire (I think) yelling at a bridesmaid in the corner of the room. It was time.

"At least sit with us." I didn't have to, but I really wanted to. I felt welcomed, and if this happened the way I wanted it to, I would like to be a part of this family. I sit right next to Amy, who was also curious to why I was wearing jeans and a T-Shirt, but didn't comment. They all waved, until the big moment happened.

The death march - or what it sounded like, at least - started blaring from this huge organ. The heads turned to see this chick dressed like a cupcake, but I stared at Dean. And he stared at me.

This was going well.

He seemed to realize what he was doing. You're not supposed to be looking at your ex girlfriend in jeans and a T-Shirt when your lovely bride to be is striding down the aisle. He forced his eyes on her. She seemed content, but really only because she was getting attention. She didn't really care who she was getting from.

There they are. Standing face to face. She has this dark red lipstick caked onto her lips. Dean was never attracted to heavy make up. He would always wipe off my "eye stuff". It kind of offended me. I'm pretty good with the eye stuff, but I get it now. You don't want to look like a drag queen, especially at an occasion like this.

This is where the story begins. The reverend begins. I'm not really paying very close attention. Weddings were boring. For the most part, I skipped weddings when I was invited. I wasn't exactly invited to this one. I asked Dean about it on Facebook and he said he sent my invite and he was excited to see me again. Either he was being insincere or Claire uninvited me. Bitch.

My cue. His voice says the line. "Speak now or forever hold your peace." I never had a problem with words. I was the one spitting rude comments to teachers in high school, but my throat was frozen. I had to do this though. It was my time.

"I do!" I stand up, trying to be as dramatic as possible. All of the eyes shift to me. Awkward. I keep my eyes on Dean. I can't read his expression very well. Shocked? Happy? Angry? Confused? Does he even recognize me? "Have an... objection... um. Dean."

The eyes shift once more to Dean. His face is obviously confused now. He's too stunned to speak. "I had this speech prepared, but, I don't think that's... it's not going well... I don't know what to say. I've never done this before." I awkward chuckle, before striding up a bit. I'm in the aisle, inbetween the two families. I smile now, regaining composure. I have this under control now. For the most part.

"Well, uh, this is kind of stupid, but, I've been in love with you since I was sixteen. You remember that, right? I'm Alex." He nods. Good. He did recognize me. This causes me to beam even more. "Russo, whatever." I stick my hands in my pockets, "And I'm sure your... gorgeous bride right here is great, but, um... don't say yes. Let's run away or something crazy and spontaneous like we always do, because we're Dean and Alex and it just can't be over yet. Right?" Everyone's quiet. The room is stirring. I can feel the tension thicken the air, but my eyes are stuck on Dean. "This... this really was stupid. It is over, isn't it?" He's quiet still. Screw it. "Damn it, say something. Please?"

He laughs. He's... laughing. At me. That's great. "Thanks, Russo." He walks over to me. We meet up in the middle.

"For what? Making a fool out of myself at your wedding?" I say, halfheartedly. Was I making a fool out of myself? Was this pointless?

"You're not. I'm glad you're here."

"I'm surprised, I didn't really get a formal invitation, did I?"

"What? Claire sent the..." He looks over at his bride-to-be, but shakes his head. "Sorry about that. But you never did like weddings."

"Hey. I came. Obviously." We laugh. We're quiet after that, but it's not really awkward. It's sweet. "So... what about my proposal?"

"What about it?"

"Don't play dumb with me."

"I'll meet you when I'm out of my tux." He chuckled. The room gasps. I'm pretty shocked too, don't get me wrong.

"Is that a yes?" I teased, cocking my eyebrow, grabbing his hand.

"That's a yes." And before you know it, his lips are mine in front of everyone. That means his friends, his family, and that redheaded skank's entourage.

Maybe our story is a little cliche. Maybe I was stupid for interrupting his wedding. But hey, Russos always win in the end.

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**I lovelovelove Taylor Swift's new song and I needed to make a story for it. I'm pretty sure Alex and Dean were together when Alex was fifteen, but I liked sixteen better, so there you go. Review. Or not. Whatever makes you happy.**


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